Isadora's life has been a series of unfortunate events. Raised in the presence of an abusive father and tragically losing her mother due to the resulting trauma, Isadora finds solace in distancing herself from her once cherished religious beliefs.
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"Beautiful art," the familiar deep voice I had fallen in love with broke my tranquility.
I stopped painting and turned around to find him standing behind me, his arms folded and his muscles bulging.
My eyes couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the tattoo on his arm, and the ones on his neck that I had always admired. I had always loved his tattoos, ever since I first saw them.
I wondered where else he had them on. I tried to shut the dirty thoughts that were creeping into my mind, but I couldn't deny how Alvaro made me feel and how easily he evoke the whore in me.
"Thank you," I replied softly.
We stood in silence for a while, until I mustered the courage to break it. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to our lessons today," I said, trying to avoid his duo-colored eyes. "I...I wasn't feeling alright."
"So I'm guessing the party was fun?" Alvaro's comment caught me off guard making my eyes widen in surprise.
H..how did he know about the party?
He smirked and took a step closer, while I instinctively took one back. "Huh?" I replied dumbly.
"It's okay, Isadora," he said, his smirk never leaving his face. "I won't tell your husband, but tell me something, Angel. Why do you have to keep it away from him?"
I didn't know what he was referring to, but there was something about his tone and the way he stared at me that made me feel uneasy. I looked everywhere but at him, feeling uncomfortable with the direction our conversation was heading.
"Can we not talk about that?" I whispered, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I am not quite comfortable."
He didn't say anything, but his intense gaze never left my face. We remained in a tense silence, with only the morning breeze speaking between us. I continued painting, trying to distract myself from the rising tension.
As I worked on my art, I could feel his eyes on me. He sat on one of the chairs in the garden, watching me with an intensity that made me feel hot under his gaze. It wasn't just the heat of the sun, but the distraction of my dirty thoughts that was making me feel flustered.
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